


Dangerous Games

by telperion_15



Category: Primeval
Genre: Fight Sex, First Time, Knives, Love/Hate, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-29
Updated: 2012-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-30 07:25:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telperion_15/pseuds/telperion_15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a new boy in town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dangerous Games

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written as a birthday fic for munchkinofdoom.
> 
> A note about OCs:  
> Primeval fandom on LiveJournal has generated a number of fanon OCs, created by different authors and freely used by others, to the extent that some of them have now taken on lives of their own. The ones that appear in this fic, Lyle and Ditzy, belong to fredbassett.

“Penny for them?” Ditzy asked as he sat down beside Ryan.

Ryan’s eyes tracked his quarry across the room for a few more seconds before he spoke. “What do we think of the new boy?”

Ditzy’s own eyes followed Ryan’s gaze to settle on the ‘new boy’ in question – one Corporal Jon Lyle. “Not sure,” he said slowly. “Haven’t really had a chance to talk to him yet.”

“I’ve heard things about him,” said Ryan darkly. “Apparently he’s nearly been kicked out a couple of times, thanks to his smart mouth. Doesn’t particularly like taking orders, so it’s said.”

“Well, in that case, I think he picked the wrong profession,” Ditzy joked.

“I’m going to talk to him,” Ryan said abruptly. He stood up and made his way over to where Lyle was chatting to a couple of the other men.

“Corporal Lyle?”

Lyle looked up. “Who wants to know?”

“Tom Ryan.” Ryan stuck his hand out, and Lyle shook it.

“And I’m Dave Owen.” Ditzy and Lyle shook hands too.

“Settling in alright?” Ryan asked.

Lyle shrugged. “Fine. Seems okay around here.”

“Where were you before?” Ditzy enquired.

“Up north,” Lyle replied.

“Any particular reason you transferred down here?”

“They made me,” Lyle said shortly.

Ryan and Ditzy exchanged a glance. So Lyle’s reputation was true, then.

Lyle must have noticed the look that passed between them, because his hazel eyes flashed dangerously. “I suppose you’ve heard about me, then?” he said aggressively.

“Not much,” replied Ryan, refusing to be intimidated. “But enough.”

“Bad with authority, doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut, that kind of thing?”

“Something like that,” Ryan said noncommittally.

“Well, then, you heard correctly,” Lyle said. He sounded almost proud of himself.

“They don’t take crap like that round here,” Ryan warned.

“Oh, and I suppose everyone here is a good little soldier, are they?”

“We do our best,” said Ditzy uncomfortably.

“The brass won’t take any shit,” Ryan insisted. “And neither will most of the men.”

“Including you, I suppose?”

“Including me,” Ryan confirmed.

“And I bet all the men just look up to you, don’t they?” Lyle sneered. “Because you’re such a paragon of virtue.”

“You seem to know a lot about me, considering we’ve only just met,” Ryan retorted.

“So not so virtuous, then? Care to prove it?”

“What?” Ryan was a bit nonplussed by the sudden change in direction.

“Prove it. You and me. A little contest. Let’s find out who’s really good enough to be here.”

“Come on, guys,” Ditzy said uneasily. “This doesn’t sound like a good idea, Ryan…”

“Okay,” Ryan said suddenly. “You’re on.” Silently, he cursed himself for agreeing, but he couldn’t back down now. Seemed Lyle wasn’t the only one with a smart mouth.

*   *   *   *   *

“So, do you think you can take him?”

Ryan looked at Ditzy in surprise. “I thought you disapproved?”

“I do. But clearly I can’t talk you out of it. So I repeat – can you take him?”

Glancing over to where Lyle was slouched against the wall, smirking at them, Ryan nodded. “Yes,” he said decisively.

“Well, I bloody hope so,” Ditzy muttered. “Barracks honour and all that, mate.” He glanced at Lyle too. Lyle winked back. “Cocky little fucker, isn’t he?”

“Not by the time I’ve finished with him,” Ryan asserted.

“Are we going to do this, or are you two going to chat all day?” Lyle called over suddenly.

Ryan flipped him the finger, and then took a couple of deep breaths, readying himself.

They were behind one of the storage sheds, on the far side of the barracks. It was a place that was well used by soldiers wanting to settle ‘disputes’. Ryan hadn’t been lying when he’d said that people round here wouldn’t take any shit. But one of the reasons everyone generally rubbed along well together was the tendency to deal with any problems quietly, before the powers that be got wind of them. Not that Ryan thought the officers were oblivious to what went on here – he just figured they saw the sense in the arrangement, too. So long as things didn’t get too out of hand, they were content to leave well enough alone.

“Go get him,” Ditzy muttered.

Ryan grinned, and then stepped forward to meet Lyle.

Both of them were carrying knives. Ryan had proposed a shooting contest, but Lyle had vetoed that suggestion disdainfully, saying that they needed a ‘proper test’ of speed, agility, and skill.

So knives it was. Ryan knew he was good with a blade. But he also knew he was better with a rifle. And he didn’t know how good Lyle was with either. Nevertheless, he still fancied his chances, and he grinned at Ditzy again, before suddenly closing with Lyle.

Despite the lack of warning, Lyle just managed to block in time, Ryan’s blade sliding along his with a squeal of metal. They were only using practice blades, but with a lot of force behind it even a blunt knife could cause a nasty injury.

And neither man was sparing the force. A vicious exchange of blows ended with Lyle’s blade against Ryan’s thigh. Ryan cursed loudly as Ditzy yelled, “One-Nil!”

Lyle smiled wolfishly. “Still time to call it off,” he taunted.

“Fuck you,” Ryan spat, but Lyle only grinned wider.

They began again, circling each other more warily now, each man contemplating the other’s defences, considering how best to attack.

This time, it was Lyle who moved first, attacking furiously until he had backed Ryan up against the wall of the shed, his arm pressed tightly across Ryan’s throat.

“Yield?” he snarled.

But Ryan merely smiled and flicked his gaze down, drawing Lyle’s attention to where his knife rested against the bottom of Lyle’s ribcage.

“One all!” Ditzy yelled. Lyle glowered and stepped back.

Their third bout was much more evenly matched, neither of them getting near a hit for some minutes until, most unluckily, Ryan tripped over a stone, falling heavily to the ground. Lyle was on him in a flash, and only Ryan’s quick reactions enabled him to grab Lyle’s wrist before the tip of his blade could drive into Ryan’s shoulder.

But Lyle had the upper hand. All his weight was on top of Ryan, straddling Ryan’s hips as he was. And it was only a matter of time before gravity and strength would allow Lyle to get another hit.

Then Lyle shifted a little to balance himself better, and suddenly Ryan had a whole new concern to add to his list.

Fuck.

Desperately, he tried to think of something boring. Drill, polishing his boots, latrine duty, anything. But it was no good. He was well and truly fucked now.

He could see the exact moment when Lyle noticed what was happening, and braced himself for the fallout. But instead of the triumph or disgust he had been expecting, he saw instead surprise flickering in Lyle’s eyes. Surprise that was quickly replaced by speculation.

Ryan felt time slow down as Lyle grinned appreciatively, and shifted his weight again. This time Ryan’s eyes fluttered closed a little, and his felt his grip on Lyle’s wrist loosen.

This was _so_ not going to win him the contest.

“Oi!”

Ditzy’s yell cut through the moment, and Ryan’s eyes flew open again. Turning his head, he saw that his friend was smirking unashamedly.

“You two going to get a room, or what?” said Ditzy, his tone betraying that he’d known this was going to happen long before they had.

“Fuck off,” chorused Ryan and Lyle in unison.

Ditzy winked, and did just that.

Lyle took advantage of Ryan’s distraction to twist his wrist out of the other man’s grip, flinging his knife aside. Then his fisted his hands in Ryan’s t-shirt, hauling him up to kiss him fiercely.

It was all teeth, tongues, and a battle for dominance, Ryan determined to show Lyle that he didn’t give up _that_ easily. And when they drew apart both men were grinning ferally, their breath hot on each other’s faces.

“Now,” said Lyle, wriggling in Ryan’s lap, “Where were we?”


End file.
